the bedroom business
by Kimmiiee
Summary: Mikan, Natsume's secretary, his little Sparrow, the only person able to make him lose his grip on his legendary cool. What would happen if they were trapped at his villa outside the city due to a heavy snow storm? ON HOLD sorry too much work.
1. Chapter 1

The Bedroom Business

Natsume's secretary, his little Sparrow, the only person able to make him lose his grip on his legendary cool. What would happen if they were trapped at his villa outside the city due to a heavy snow storm?

**Chapter One**

"Looks like we have just enough time to sit by the fire and enjoy our wine," said Natsume.

"All right," she said, after a second's hesitation. "That would be nice."

Yes, he thought, yes, it would be. Sitting beside the fire, his arms around her shoulder, her head on his chest…

Natsume put down his glass. "The thing is," he said gruffly, "I'm not a guy who believes in forever after."

He spoke before he could stop himself, but if he'd taken Mikan by surprise, she didn't know it.

"I know that, Natsume."

"Do you? I want you, Mikan. Hell, I want you so badly it makes me ache." He took a slow step towards her. "But I don't want to hurt you. And I'm not sure what you expect out of tonight."

Mikan didn't have to think about her answer. She'd come to grips with reality while she'd been making the sauce for pasta. She was an adult and so was he. Oh, she'd tried to pretty things up by telling herself she wasn't a woman meant for a one-night stand but the truth was, just as the sauce was made up of a bit of this and a bit of that, so was life.

Tonight was about sex, not romance. That was fine. She didn't believe in romance, anyway. This—being with Natsume, learning what other women knew—was part of life. And here, at long last, was her chance to live it.

"Just tonight," she said softly, her chin level, her eyes steady on his. "That's all I expect, Natsume. I just want—I want what you said you'd give me. What you said you'd teach me."

She sounded calm, almost cool. She wasn't though. Natsume could see the glass trembling in her hand. She was afraid, and excited, and the knowledge that she was both sent a lightning bolt of anticipation through his blood.

He took her wineglass from her hand and set it aside.

"Come here," he said softly, and drew her to him. "Mikan." He ran his hands down her back, then up again. "Mikan, you're so lovely."

"You don't have to lie to me. I know I'm not—"

Her voice was shaking. Well, why wouldn't it? She was terrified. Where was she supposed to put her hands? What was she supposed to do and say?

Her breath caught. Natsume had nuzzled her hair aside. His mouth was hot against her neck.

"It's true, though," he whispered. "You're beautiful, and sweet, and perfect."

"Natsume." Mikan shut her eyes. "I don't—I don't know what you want me to do."

He took her hands, looped them behind his neck.

"Just do whatever you want to do, sweetheart."

"Yes, but I—I--"

He kissed her gently, the brush of his lips against hers like a feather against her skin. Mikan caught her breath.

"Natsume? I don't think…"

"Good." He put his hand under her chin, tipped her face up to his. "Don't think, Mikan. That's it. Don't think. Just feel."

His eyes were deep and dark; she knew she could tumble into them, get lost in them forever.

"Natsume? Maybe we were right the first time. That coming here was a mis—"

He kissed her again. His lips pressed hers more firmly this time but his mouth was soft. Soft, and cool, and wonderful.

Her heart began to race. And there was a strange tingling sensation low in her belly.

"Natsume. Natsume, listen. I said that maybe coming here was—"

He silenced her by fitting his mouth carefully over hers, stroking the tip of his tongue against the seam of her lips.

"Mikan," he said gruffly, "just turn off that brain of yours and kiss me back."

She did. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissed him, and knew, at long last, that being here, with Natsume, being in his arms, was what she'd waited for, all her life.

**To Be continued.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Natsume groaned as she opened her mouth to him. He cupped her face in his hands, accepting her invitation, delved into the heat and sweetness of her mouth. Mikan moaned, lifted herself to him, against him, pressed her soft, soft body against the hardness of his.

"Mikan," he said, and he lifted her into his arms, carried her into the living room, to the fireplace, before he lowered her to her feet.

She'd knotted the apron; he'd always been good at knots, but his hands were shaking now; it took forever to undo the knot and get the apron off.

Ah, he was right. She was beautiful. The rose-coloured dress matched the colour on her face. Her eyes were dark pools, wide with expectation and wonder. Her breasts were high, the nipples hard and visible beneath the soft wool.

"Mikan," he whispered.

He watched her face as he lifted his hand, brushed his thumb over the distended bit of wool. She cried out; her head fell back and Natsume caught her, gathered her close, eased the dress off one creamy shoulder and pressed his mouth to her flesh, to the pulse racing in the hollow of her throat. She smelled of roses and sweet cream; she tasted of honey and heaven, and he told himself to go slow, go slow…

How could he?

The blood was pounding in his veins. And Mikan… Mikan was whispering his name as he cupped her breast, teased it to life.

"Please," she said, "Natsume, please…"

He could feel the room spinning around him, begging him, arching against him. She tugged his shirt out of his jeans, ran her hands up his back.

Go slow, he told himself fiercely, dammit, go slow…

"Natsume?" she said, and touched him. Touched his erection as it strained against his jeans, and he was lost. Lost, to everything but needing her, wanting her, having her.

"Take me," she said. "Please, Natsume. Come inside me, now."

Natsume growled. He pulled her down to the carpet before the fire, thrust his hands under her skirt, felt the whisper of silk on her thighs, the slickness of silk between them.

She was wet and hot. Wet and hot, for him.

The world, and all his reason, disappeared.

"Now," he said, and he ripped away the wet silk, opened his fly, freed himself and thrust deep, thrust hard…

And he felt the barrier, the one he'd never, in his entire life, encountered. Stunned, he held still. Tried to think. To pull back. Mikan wouldn't let him. She dug her hands into his shoulders, dragged him down to her, and lifted herself to him.

"Mikan," he said, "Mikan, wait…"

Too late. She thrust her hips forward and impaled herself on his hard flesh.

A moment of shimmering pain, and then Natsume was inside her, deep inside her, and she knew, she knew why she'd let this happen, why she'd wanted it to happen.

"Natsume," Mikan whispered, "oh, Natsume, i…"

Natsume groaned, thrust one last time, and the world came apart in a shattering explosion of light.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry that it took so long to update, too many assessments!

Natsume buried his face in Mikan's throat, kissed her damp skin, then rolled onto his side and curved her tightly against him.

"Mikan." He looked deep into her eyes. "Are you all right?"

All right? She was wonderful. Her body tingled; her skin felt flushed and hot. Was she supposed to tell him that?

"Baby," he said, drawing her closer and running his hand gently up and down her spine, "sweetheart, I'm sorry."

"For what? I wanted… I wanted you to make love to me, Natsume."

"Yeah." A teasing smile angled across his lips. "Oh, yeah, Mikan. I know that." Natsume threaded his fingers into her hair, brought her mouth to his for a long, tender kiss.

What did he mean; he knew she'd wanted him to make love to her? Yes, of course he knew. She'd told him. But there was something in that little smile…

"Really," she said quickly, "it was—it was fine, just the way you did it."

"Fine, huh?" He laughed softly. "Is that the best you can do?"

His tone was gentle. He was teasing her, she knew, just as she knew she should make some equally teasing response. She couldn't. Her heart was still racing but her mind was blank. There had to be a protocol for this but for the life of her, she had no idea what it was. Did you say thank you to the man who'd just shown you ecstasy? Or did you just lie here and wonder where this magic had been, all your adult life?

Nothing she'd read, nothing she'd imagined, had prepared her for the reality of what had just happened. The feeling of Natsume, deep within her. His hot skin. His clever mouth. His slow hands. She didn't want to ruin it now, by saying the wrong thing. As it was, she'd come close to doing just that. She'd almost said…almost said…

She'd almost said, Natsume, I love you. And she didn't. Of course, she didn't. She'd just been so overwhelmed by sensation…

"Mikan, talk to me." Natsume eased her onto her back and leaned over her, his weight on his elbows as he looked into her face. "Did I hurt you? I know I went too fast. I'm sorry. I couldn't…" He took a breath, laid his forehead against hers. "You should have told me," he said softly.

"Told you…"

Heat flooded her face. That she was a virgin. That was what he meant. And he was right. She probably should have. Natsume was accustomed to being with women who knew about sex. He'd signed on to teach her about passion, not to spend a night with a trembling novice.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and closed her eyes. "I guess I should have, but—"

"I'd have slowed down, if I'd have known." He gave a little laugh. "At least, I'd have tried." He took her face in his hands, brushed his lips over hers.

"To be honest, I don't know if I could have. I wanted you so badly, Mikan. And when you let me know you felt the same way…"

"I did?"

"Uh-huh." Natsume kissed her again, and she felt his lips turn up in a smile against hers. "'Take me,' you said. 'Come inside me,' you said. What man could think straight, after that?"

Take me? Come inside me? Had she…could she possibly have… Mikan felt a stab of anguish. Yes. Yes, she had. That was what he'd meant when he gave her that smug little smile. She'd said all that. She'd begged him.

And now, she wanted to die of embarrassment.

She'd done everything wrong. She'd pleaded for him to take her, made him come too quickly, been a virgin when a virgin was the last ting a man like Natsume would expect. And she'd come within an inch of saying she loved him when, of course, she didn't.

Perfect, she thought. An absolutely perfect debut, Mikan. Too bad there was nothing left for an encore.

"Natsume."

"Mmm?"

He was kissing her throat, lightly nipping her skin. And she, dammit, was getting aroused again. She could feel it happening: the liquid rush deep inside, the tingle in her breasts…


	4. Chapter 4

"Natsume let me up, please."

"In a minute."

He moved lazily, settled himself lower on her body, kissed the rise of her breasts. "You have too much clothing on," he said huskily. "Does this dress have a zipper?"

Her dress. Oh, it was worse and worse. She still had her dress on, even her boots. Natsume was fully clothed, too. She hadn't even given him the chance to—

"Natsume. I wasn't to get up!"

There was a note of panic in her voice. She heard it; she knew Natsume did, too, from the way he reacted.

"I _did_ hurt you." He drew back. "Mikan, baby, I'm sorry. I—"

"Dammit, will you stop saying that?" her face flamed. "Look, I don't want to talk about it. I just—I want you to get off me." He did, and she shot to her feet. "Where's the bathroom?"

"Down the hall, but I can make things better, if you'd just—"

She didn't let him finish. Instead, she tugged the bodice of her dress up and the hem of it down. She could feel Natsume's eyes boring into her as she made her way down the hall. Maybe it was just as well she was dressed. Walking away naked, with him watching, would have been the final humiliation.

Why did she have to come here? Why had she done this? She'd never be able to look at Natsume again, without thinking—

Mikan slammed the bathroom door behind her and locked it.

"Oh my God," she said, in a choked whisper.

After a few seconds, she turned on the light, took a steady breath and faced herself in the mirror. It was worse than she'd expected. Her hair was a tangle of wild curls, her lip gloss was gone, her mascara was smudged. She looked like a woman who'd been doing exactly what she'd been doing… except she hadn't been doing it very well.

A sound burst from her throat. Turning on the water muffled it; she cupped her hands under the stream. It was icy-cold; she gasped as she splashed it on her face.

Now what?

If only this were New York, she thought, as she dried her hands and face. _Thank you for everything, Natsume, _she'd say. _No, no, don't get up. I'll see myself out._ Two minutes later, she'd be in the street, hailing a taxi or finding the nearest bus stop or subway station. Forget the snowstorm. Snowstorms didn't stop anybody, in the city.

But she wasn't in the city. No buses, no taxis, no subways. She might as well have been on the moon.

"Mikan?"

Mikan spun around and stared at the door.

The knob rattled. "Baby, are you okay?"

Baby. What kind of name was that for a man to call a woman?

"Yes," she said brightly, "I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine. Are you crying?"

"Don't be silly." Mikan swiped at her streaming eyes with the back of her hand. _She_ was crying. And wasn't that dumb? Okay, so she'd made a fool of herself but still, why would she cry? "Why would I cry, Natsume?"

"I don't know, but I'd like to find out. Open the door, Mikan."

"No."

"Mikan." Natsume's voice hardened. "Open this door!"

"I don't have to. This is a bathroom. People are entitled to privacy, in the bathroom."

Natsume leaned his forehead against the door. Dammit, now what? Of course she was crying. He'd dealt with enough teary females to know what woman sounded like when she was crying. It usually sent him running in the opposite direction but where could he run to? This was his house, the wind and snow are howling outside…and besides, it was doing funny things to him, hearing his sparrow weep.

Why would she cry? Okay, things hadn't been perfect. He hadn't made love the way he'd intended, so that it would last, so that he could seek out all her most sensitive places, hold her in his arms and watch her lovely face as she found the fulfillment he, and only he, could bring her…

He, and only he?

Natsume frowned. What in hell was that supposed to mean? He was teaching Mikan about passion. That was what he promised, what she'd accepted.

Easy. He needed a minute to get things in perspective. What had happened had thrown him. he'd expected Mikan to be inexperienced, but a virgin?

No way.

That had come as a shock. No wonder he'd—he'd—

Who was he kidding? He'd lost control. That had never happened to him before, not since he was a kid. He'd loved sex: the musky scents; the hot whispered sounds; the swift rocket-ride to the stars, but a little piece of him always stayed outside, kind of like an observer. What had happened to the observer this time? How come, at that end, nothing had mattered but being deep inside Mikan?

The answer was simple. All the prim propriety, hiding all that heat. What man wouldn't lose control? What man wouldn't find the experience exceptional?

In fact, he wanted her again. Right now. The truth was, he hadn't stopped wanting her, even after they'd both come. Did she know how rare that was, that a man and a woman found release at the same instant? No. she wouldn't know. She was so innocent. So…

Natsume rubbed his hands over his face. His body was hardening, his pulse starting to do the samba, because he wanted to make love to Mikan again. And what did Mikan what?

She wanted to lock herself inside the bathroom and cry.

Had he failed her that badly?

"Mikan," he said, trying to sound stern, "I want you out of there this second."

Silence greeted him demand. He frowned, eyed the door narrowly.

"Mikan? Come out. I'll bust the door down, if I have to."

Mikan gave a ladylike snort. "Oh, that's the ticket, Natsume. You don't get what you want, just start barking!"

"Dammit, Mikan…" a nerve ticked in Natsume's temple. He laid his palms flat against the door, touched his forehead to the wood. "Let's not turn this into a battle. Just open the lock, okay?"

"No."

"You have to, sooner or later."

"I don't."

"Of course you do. You'll get hungry, or tired or thirsty…"

"I'm not hungry. There's plenty of water and I can always curl up on the floor."

Natsume looked at the door considered beating his head agai8nst it, and decided Mikan would simply stand by and let him do it.

"Mikan?"

"Yes?"

He hesitated. "Are you sure I didn't hurt you?"

"Positive." She spoke softly, so softly that he could hardly hear her. "You didn't hurt me at all."

Natsume cleared his throat. "Yeah, but I disappointed you."

"You didn't disappoint me, either."

"Sure, I did. I was—I was way too fast. I didn't mean it to be like that but when you said—"

"Don't repeat it!" Mikan closed her eyes in misery. "I know what I said. If I could take it back—"

"Take back that you wanted me inside you?"

"Please," she whispered, "don't talk about it. I'm so embarrassed…"

"Embarrassed? That you let me know you wanted me? Mikan, don't you know what that did to me? Hearing you say those things?"

Mikan slid down to the floor and leaned her head against the door. "You don't have to be polite, Natsume."

Natsume gave a chocked laugh as he slid to the floor on the opposite side of the door. "Hell, Sparrow, good manners have nothing to do with this. I'm just sorry I made it all so quick. I wanted it to be perfect."

"It _was_ perfect. It's just that i… What did you call me?"

"Sparrow. My sweet, hot little sparrow."

Mikan cringed. "'Hot' isn't a word a lady appreciates, Natsume."

"A woman's not supposed to be a lady when a man makes love to her, Mikan."

"No?"

"No. is that what this is all about? That you weren't a lady?"

Another long silence. "Maybe."

"Baby, listening to me. A lady's the last thing a man wants in his bed."

He waited. She didn't reply.

"Mikan? Sweetheart, please open the door. I promise, next time will be better."

"There won't be a next time." She paused. "And—and even if there were, how could it be better?" she thought back to that hot explosion of light. "How could it?" she said again, but very softly.

Natsume rose slowly to his feet. "Open the door," he said huskily, "and I'll show you."


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry! I haven't updates in a while. It has been sooooooooooooooooo busy lately and my birthday's coming up too so it's been very hectic.

This chapter is dedicated to the people who've had the patience of waiting for me to update.

Although I have to say that I don't know when the next time I will update so SORRY in advanced!!!

Chapter 5

He waited. After a few seconds, he heard a sound, a soft rustle of clothing. The door opened a crack. Mikan peered out.

"I think it would be best if I went home now."

Natsume's smile tilted. "How are you going to manage that, Sparrow? Do you have a toboggan parked outside?"

She opened the door wider and stepped into the hall. Natsume's heart did that funny upside down thing in his chest again. Her new hairdo was a mess, her lip gloss was all kissed off and the artfully applied mascara had dried into raccoon like smudges under her teary eyes.

She was beautiful.

"Just look at you," he said gruffly. He took a step forward, gently dried her tears with his thumbs. "You've ruined all that goo that woman spent hours putting on your face."

"It wasn't goo," she said, sniffling a little but managed to sound defiant anyway, "and she spent two minutes."

Natsume took her hand. "Come sit by the fire with me."

"I'd really like to go home."

"Yeah, well, you can't."

He led her into the living room. What he really wanted was to pull her into his arms, kiss her until she trembled and begged him to make love to her again, but he wouldn't do it. This was the time for seduction. Yeah, he'd seduce her. Slowly. Tenderly. Until she was on fire for him, the way he was on fire for her.

He sat down on the sofa, tried to pull her into his lap, but she wouldn't let him.

"I'd rather sit in the chair."

"How am I going to kiss you if I'm sitting here and you're sitting in the chair?"

"Natsume. You said you'd teach me…things. And you have. You already—"

He tugged harder. She tumbled into his lap and he silenced her with a kiss. His mouth was warm; the tip of his tongue teased her lips. She swayed towards him, moaned, then pulled back.

"No," she said, a little breathlessly, "once was enough. Honestly, Natsume—"

"Honestly, Sparrow," he whispered, as his hands spanned her waist, "once is never enough."

"It is. It was. And then there's our supper. The sauce and pasta…"

"To hell with supper," Natsume said in a husky whisper that made her breath quicken. "Kiss me, Mikan."

When she didn't, he kissed her, instead, and slipped his tongue into her mouth. The heat of it, the taste of him, made her dizzy.

"Natsume." She leaned her forehead against his. "Natsume, stop. You make me feel—you make me feel—"

"What? Tell me. I want to know." His hands cupped her face, tilted it to his. "I want to know what you like. What things you want me to do."

Everything, she thought, oh, Natsume, everything.

"This?" he said, and kissed her again. "And this?" he whispered, and cupped her breasts in his hands. "This, too," he murmured, and ran his thumbs over her nipples. "Ah, Sparrow, Sparrow, I want you so badly…"

Mikan moaned, put her arms around Natsume's neck and kissed him. she wanted him, too. Wanted his mouth, his hands, his body. Wanted his soul, and his heart.

Suddenly, she tore her mouth from his. "No," she gasped, and scrambled to her feet, but Natsume went after her, put his arms around her, drew her back against his chest.

"Yes," he whispered, and buried his face in the soft, sweet place where her neck and shoulder joined.

She fell back against him, lifted her arm and lay her hand against his cheek. Her fingers skimmed across his lips. He caught them, sucked them into the heat of his mouth as he undid the zipper that ran down the back of her dress. He wrapped a handful of her hair around his fist, dragged it aside and kissed the nape of her neck.

Her skin was like silk. He wanted to tear the dress away, feast on her with all his senses. Instead, he eased the dress to her waist and covered her breasts with his hands, teased the crests with his thumbs, felt her tremble, shudder, felt his body turning into steel.

"Do you like that?" he whispered.

Mikan's breath caught. "Yes. Oh, yes. I—I—"

He turned her in his arms, took her mouth with his, nipped at her bottom lip until her mouth opened and he could slip his tongue inside. She trembled, pressed herself against him, and he shuddered with almost savage exaltation.

She was his. His, and no other man's. She had never belonged to anyone else and she never…

His mind whirled, teetered on the brink of a dangerous chasm. But Mikan was holding him, kissing him, whispering his name and he couldn't think, couldn't do anything but feel.

He kissed her, hard, tilted her head back as he took possession of her mouth. The dress tore under his hands as he slid down her body. It was pooled at her feet and he saw Mikan, his Mikan, for the very first time.

She was every dream he'd ever had, and every hope. Her body was slender, her curves feminine, her skin flushed with desire. She was wearing lace. White lace. Bra, tiny panties, stockings that ended at her thighs. White, all of it, as soft and pure as the snow.

But her boots were black. Black as midnight, black as sin, tight, sleek and high on her legs. Natsume shuddered again, knotted his hands, and swore to himself that he would make this second time perfect.

He bent to her and put his mouth against hers, holding her captive only with his kiss. Then he knelt and eased the boots from her feet, one at a time, pausing to kiss her ankle, her arch. He heard her make a whispered sound, felt the brush of her hand against his hair as he rose and he paused at the junctions of her thighs, told himself again to go slow, not to frighten her…

"Mikan," he whispered, and his hands closed around the backs of her thighs as he pressed his face against the white lace panties.

Her cry of pleasure was almost his undoing. He could feel the heat, the dampness of her through the lace; the woman-scent of her arousal was perfume to his soul. His sparrow was trembling with desire and it was all for him.

For him, he thought, and he stood straight and gathered her into his arms.

"You're beautiful," he said softly, "so beautiful that you make my heart stop."

She looked at him through those wide, dark eyes. "You are, too. I never knew a man could be beautiful, Natsume."

"Do you want to see more of me, Sparrow?"

The tip of her tongue snaked across her bottom lip. "Yes," she said. "Yes, please."

Eyes locked to hers, Natsume unbuttoned his shirt. It fell open and Mikan's breath hitched. It was true. He _was_ beautiful. All that taut muscle. The tanned skin.

She reached out a hand, hesitated, started to pull it back but Natsume clasped her wrist, put her palm flat against his chest. He caught his breath; she gave a little hum of pleasure. His skin felt hot, his body hard. Without thinking, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to the strong column of his throat.

Natsume trembled. "Oh Lord, Mikan," he whispered, and for the first time in her life, she knew what it meant to have a man want her. No. not just a man. Natsume. Natsume, who she…

She jerked back, would have spun away, but he caught her shoulders, pulled her close and kissed her. There was nothing gentle about the kiss. His mouth was rough and demanding, the stroke of his tongue possessive, and Mikan let it happen, the feeling that her bones were melting, that Natsume was taking her, claiming her, that he was marking her as his own…

That she loved him.

She loved Natsume Hyuuga. She loved everything about him his beautiful face. His powerful body. His intelligence, his humor, his hot temper and now, his heart-stopping passion.

No. No! She didn't want to love Natsume. She didn't want to love any man, especially not who was everything she'd sworn to avoid, everything her sisters had foolishly thought fascinating. Natsume was too handsome, too macho, too reckless, too restless…

Mikan caught her breath.

It was too late for thought or for regrets. Natsume was touching her. Opening her bra. Claiming her breasts as they tumbled into his waiting hands. Sucking her nipples. Licking them while he eased her panties down her hips, down her legs.

She cried out, clasped Natsume's shoulders for support. He said her name, tore off his clothes, swept her into his arms and took her down with him, in front of the fire.

"Natsume," she said, her voice trembling with emotion, her hands clasping his face.

"Don't be afraid, Mikan." He whispered.

She wasn't afraid. Not of Natsume. She was afraid of what she felt, what she wanted, what she could never have.

"Please," she said, "Natsume, please."

Mikan opened her arms. Natsume groaned, parted her thighs and sank deep, deep, deep into softness. The sweet softness that belonged only to him.

The softness of Mikan.

To be continued… although I don't know when.


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